


Heartbroken

by Danko_Kaji



Series: Kingdom Hearts ~ Time Stream of Memories [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danko_Kaji/pseuds/Danko_Kaji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to <i>Do You Accept It?</i><br/>Birth by Sleep. Three beginnings.<br/>His Eminence. Girl of Darkness. Heartless Boy.</p><p>Vast Earth Protecting Bonds.<br/>Swift Wind Returning to Bonds.<br/>Dancing Waters Forming Bonds.</p><p>In-Depth Novelization.<br/>Prologue to a future novella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbroken

**Author's Note:**

> Back story for 3 chosen OCs in my _Do You Accept It?_ series; Zenshin, Koi, and Tōya respectively.

**Birth by Sleep**

Your path is illuminated by the light  
Yet darkness lets the stars shine bright.  
~J.L.W. Brooks

~

  


Crystalline-cold blue eyes flickered behind black bangs, the mute wind whistling to this private moment of early history.

Bizarre rock formations surrounded the stranger, a solitary tall teenager, who cradled a floating heart in his gloved hands, disconnected and stolen from its owner. Disgruntled of his dark hold, pure iridescent light beams swathed the beating heart, singeing his exposed fingers, black blood evaporating in the air, once again replaced by regenerative skin. Solemn resolution eradicated his hesitation and he reached out to embrace his new power.

Darkness engulfed all color, blinding him to the physical realm, and phosphorescent pinpricks of light assaulted his senses. Bonds. Links. Connections. Interweaving threads leading to the vast reaches of the universe, strings of fate belonging to every hue of the rainbow. Potential surged in his artificial veins and adrenaline spiked the darkness flaring in his heart, a ceaseless flow of knowledge pouring into his conscience.

“The power of 'revision'... to erase, create, rearrange links. To rewrite a new world, a new ending...”

His willpower served as a vacuum, robbing the heart of its light, trapping the last vestiges from fleeing and fading into the dark, redirecting the flow of liberal energy into a culmination of solid crystal. Captivated by this successful feat, the possibility of many more in the far future, the dark teen glanced at the now vegetative heart, pulse hollow and on the verge of dying.

"An isolated world wrapped within darkness. This is where you will sleep forever, where no one can ever find you.” Prophecy sealed by ill intentions, and equipped with a crystal that could do wonders – amplify his powers, bury the hopeless past, salvage a promising future – he dropped his arms to his sides, releasing the heart into the soothing mystery of the ocean.

The Dark Meridian, a cemetery where mortal emotions swam in the midnight tides, where lukewarm memories rest in the moonlit sand, where regrets glide above granite milestones and unforgettable grave markers. A morbid, fitting place for his light; away from the upcoming war, the violence, and evil forces not yet at work.

“You need not suffer on my behalf anymore. Sleep, and dream of the day this universe will be a safer place.”

~

  
Many years later, this rogue heart drifts across the ocean, absorbing darkness through decades of exposure, fabricating a humanoid body. Hands and fingers, feet and toes, arms and legs, a torso, a head, a face; a female adolescent. Clothes cover the naked vessel; black shirt, black form-fitting pants, black sneakers. This young entity continues to drift. Drifting, drifting, drifting... until the heart enters a new world. Aquatic life flows past her, fluid movement whispering to her heart. Stirring reflexes die before they can be born. Without initiative, nothing changes.  


This heart suddenly feels a presence, a foreign heart touch her own, sensing it recoil from her darkness.  


_Where is this place?_   


The nameless being echoes its questions, curious of its existence, and her own. “Who are you?” Light. Awareness. Explosions of the senses. Clarity. Fascination. It anchors her to the sea floor, bottomless, passing a silver line between this ocean and another dimension. A deep dive into her Awakening.  


Her body plummets without stop, sinking, blue bubbles rising in the blackness, new limbs twirling as the water tugs her further into the unknown. Stimulated by the life coursing in her infantile veins, fresh and groggy and half-awake, she stretches her sluggish human form, moving downside-up, opening her mind’s eye for the first time, taking one tentative step and another on invisible ground.  


 _I am a newly born heart.  
_  
She searches for the source of the speaker, faced with an endless abyss and no other life form present. "How... You are not my heart."  


_I heard something calling me, and when I followed it... I found you._   


"My heart... it has died... I don't know who I am... soon... I will cease to exist..."  


Born from darkness, she awoke in darkness, and will die again in darkness. What else does Fate hold for her?  


_Then, why don't we connect our hearts as one?_

"Eh?"  


Bright pain bleaches her sight, solid white spilling the floor beneath her feet. A soft ring resounds, one rippling note a lullaby of the Heavens, as she watches light restore her missing station, a platform of ascending white auroras.  


_Our hearts won't get lost along the way._

_An undead heart can be reborn when nurtured by another heart. Someday, you will be able to revive your heart by yourself._   


Ghost of a smile. Bow of the head. "Okay. I trust you."  


_Accept this life. And together we are..._   


Soundless words echo in her empty mind, and she gives voice to her infant companion. “Light and darkness.”  


Color pours into the glass canvas piece by mosaic piece, painting a self-portrait of a brunette girl reclined on one side and superimposing an oceanic, beach-littered background. Silhouettes of scarred black hearts embroider the rim. Feathery light breezes the space surrounding her, delighting her black pupil-less eyes with the sight of innocence.  


Her fingers twitch in the physical realm, her eyelids slowly rising to see a glowing, gibbous moon blurred by water — the first light in a sleeping world.  


Startled by these onslaught of sensations, she moves to float upright, beating her legs, thrusting her arms, propelling her body to the surface. She soon breaks through the border of liquid glass and _breathes_.  


It stings to feel the light of the moon on her skin; but she knows, she's alive. Instinct drove her to survive.  


~

  
Light. Colors. Memories.  


Everything explodes in sight, blinding me with pure, unconcentrated energy.  


Feathery light filters through a mosaic circular window, setting the chapel on fire, not unlike some random oblivion in the past. Trials and tribulations of a fledgling Keyblade Master. Multiple Keyblade Masters. Keyblade War decimating thousands of Keyblade wielders from existence.  


A shooting star. Two boys and one girl on a mountain.  


Three soldiers clad in armor from head to toe, they glisten gold in the dying sunset. Keyblades are drawn and brandished in bold preparation for battle; an epic fight fated to become a tragedy.  


Humid, dry dust clouds shroud their opponent until the air clears. An old, hunched man approaches and a dark figure flanks his mentor's shadow. A master and his apprentice; a terror of my past and nothingness.  


A setting sun. Two boys and one girl on an island.  


The contrasting, imposing images - the calm before the storm, the beginning of the end - they play back and forth, fighting for dominance, striving to deliver a message, a voiceless plight for help.  


The last thing I remember is falling. Treading on falling, broken shards of glass. Disintegrating shards of a mirror. Starlight reflecting shines superficial hopes and incomplete promises. Each plasmic fragment represents an individual distant world.  


I reach out, angry and desperate and wanting.  


This is not over. My story is not over. _We_ are not over.


End file.
